Page 88 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“Did you ever get reprimanded while you were a trainee?” she asks, curious brown eyes peering over at me.

“Once,” I admit, my smile growing wider.

“What did you do?” Arella leans forward.

“Oh, I’d love to hear this story,” an airy, masculine voice adds.

My heart swells in my chest, knowing Asheros has joined us even before I glance over my shoulder to look at him. “Well…” I pause, chuckling to myself. “It might surprise you to know this, but once upon a time, I was very bad at turning down a challenge.”

A rich laugh tumbles from Asheros’s soft lips. “Come now, Bladesinger. That’s supposed to surprise me?”

Pulling my dripping hands from the wash basin, I give his shoulder a shove, leaving wet hand marks on his fine shirt. But he only grins, his expression looking lighter than it had moments ago.

“Fine, fine,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. “Perhaps I still am. Anyhow, a fellow recruit dared me to sneak into Ceren’s chambers, take her sword—while still in its sheath, mind you—and hang it outside the castle in a place where it could be seen from the outdoor training grounds.”

Arella pauses. Lowering the forks she’s washing, she gapes at me while Asheros just shakes his head, mouth parted with amusement.

“So, I did it. One night, after everyone had gone to bed, I slipped into Ceren’s bed chamber while she was sleeping. Her sword is her most prized possession, you see, and she kept it in her room with her.”

I’m smiling now, the fondness of the memory shining through the worry knotted between my shoulders. “I’ve never tip-toed so quietly in my whole life. Never been that afraid of being caught, either. But I made it in and out of her room without her noticing, and I practically sprinted to the training grounds after that.”

Asheros’s demeanor shifts, amusement giving way to something else underneath, something tender.

Something that only exists between our gazes.

“I used two daggers to climb the castle wall.” The memory of how the night air felt on my skin brings me back to that moment all those years ago. “And when I’d climbed high enough, I hung the sheath from a piece of hooked stone beneath one of the windows.”

Adding a clean plate to the stack forming beside me, I continue. “The next morning, Ceren was absolutely furious. You should have seen her face. It was the angriest I’ve ever seen her. She ordered us to stand in formation, and she came down, row by row, one by one, demanding the culprit come forward.”

“Did you tell her what you’d done?” Arella asks, fully invested in my story.

“Nope.” Pride rolls from me, and I puff out my chest. “I kept a straight face when she stopped in front of me. She wouldn’t have known it was me if the person who dared me to do it hadn’t come clean about it.”

“Good gods,” Arella murmurs, redirecting her attention to the wash basin. “I’d have confessed the moment I took the sword.” Her brows furrow. “What was your punishment?”

“Stable duty for two months,” I tell her. “Two months of shoveling horse shit.”

Arella wrinkles her nose. “Was it even worth it?”

I grin. “Absolutely.”

As I finish washing the plates, I feel Asheros’s gaze linger on me.

“Very well,” I say, turning around. The light tone of my voice fades, giving way to my renewed focus. “Are we ready to depart?”

Asheros scans the room, and then dips his head to me, his demeanor matching my own. “We are.”

“Good.” I take a breath to clear my mind of worry. “Let’s move out.”

It’s been nearly two days since we departed from Esvelon, and for the duration of our journey thus far, Asheros has been unusually quiet. No witty remarks. No smirks or wicked humor.

Nothing.

I can’t help but replay our last encounters in my mind, searching for the catalyst that’s to blame for this change in him. Perhaps it’s merely the stress of what’s to come.

Or maybe, something’s different between us. The last night we spent in Esvelon, I was…

Vulnerable.

---